The girl with the white flag
by MissEclipse
Summary: An incident at a Summer Fair sends Murdock unintentionally back to Vietnam. Takes place roughly a year after the team escaped from Fort Bragg. Just a quick one-shot.


[ **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of the A-Team characters belong to me.** ]

[ ** _Warning: there will be some graphic references to the Vietnam War, which I hope won't be too offensive or cause distress. Special thanks to LAGC for her guidance in this story._** ]

 **The girl with the white flag**

[ _Timeline: August 1973_. _Somewhere in the LA Underground._ ]

Following his breakdown in 1972, Murdock had been discharged from his tour in Vietnam and sent to the VA clinic in Westwood, California, to recover. The team had made their initial contact with him nine months ago and thanks to their intervention, he was finally beginning to pick up the pieces of his life again.

Faceman – under the guise of his cousin Tommy - had just scammed Murdock out of the VA on a 5-day pass. This was to be the first time that the pilot would be joining the guys on one of their assignments as soldiers of fortune. It was to be a fairly straight-forward affair. Just a matter of providing the client with protection for a couple of days. No flight support was needed, but Murdock was keen to prove that he could play an active role as a competent member of the team once again.

Driving along in Face's Vette, he suddenly spotted that there was a Summer Fair taking place in the nearby park. He managed to persuade Face to pull up so they could take a meander through all the festivities and maybe go on a ride or two. Face didn't think it would do any harm. They weren't leaving to start the assignment until tomorrow, so they had a day to relax and chill out.

Murdock sat in the park, underneath the shade of the trees, enjoying the feel of the warm sunshine on his face. The Fair was in full swing as he looked around with eager enthusiasm at all the hustle and bustle. Colourful streamers and banners adorned the fascinating arts and craft stalls and the fairground buzzed with the sound of excited shrieks and chatter from the revellers enjoying the thrilling rides. He was looking forward to an afternoon of fun and silliness!

Face was queuing up to get him a hotdog with " _everything on it_ ". He glanced back to see his buddy sitting against the tree with a look of contentment on his face. Murdock caught Face's gaze and waved manically at him. Face pretended to shrug in annoyance as he gestured to the length of the queue in front of him. Murdock grinned back smugly. He knew Face didn't mean it. Jeez, Face would queue from here to the ends of the earth if he knew he wanted something.

He pulled down the tip of his cap to shade his eyes from the bright sunlight, soaking in the rare taste of freedom that had eluded him since his admittance to the VA. A young girl suddenly came skipping into view. She was waving a flag excitedly at her mother, a prize she had won from one of the side stall attractions.

It was if someone had just pressed a button to change channel on the TV. Murdock was no longer in Los Angeles. He had been transported back to Vietnam and was scouting around in his Huey, at treetop level, over one of the villages. His crew was there to provide air support for the platoon on the ground, in case they were met with any unwanted static from Charlie. They would act as bait, hoping to draw the snipers out of their hiding places as they took pot shots at the pilots.

Murdock hated this type of military operation. It wasn't what he would call a typical combat assault situation. There were no key buildings on their maps to destroy. Just civilian hamlets and rice paddies. But intelligence would suggest that these were Viet Cong stronghold villages and that anyone found there would be VC sympathisers. Murdock knew the search and destroy objectives would be ruthless.

As the attack began, it looked like the villagers were going about their usual business. The dirt track that weaved its way between the paddy fields was bustling with people and livestock, as they made their way to and from the market.

It was then that he saw a young Vietnamese girl running through the rice paddy. Her black trousers and white blouse stood out vividly against the lush, green vegetation. Murdock could even see her long pigtails bobbing up and down with the motion.

She ran out on to the dirt tack, frantically waving a stick with a white handkerchief tied to it, in surrender. Caught up in the crossfire of bullets from both sides of the war, the picture of anguish on her face told a story all of its own. In the few seconds that it took Murdock to circle his bird around, the dirt track was full of dead bodies. He could see the young girl slumped in a heap, still holding the flag in her hand.

Murdock blinked as the memory flooded his mind and took over his senses. He remembered landing the Huey so he could help to get the wounded survivors to hospital. He remembered running to the dirt track to see if there was the remotest chance that the young girl had made it. Her dark, motionless eyes staring back at him verified what he already knew and he could feel the gut-wrenching sensation in his stomach inwardly tighten. Was this really the face of the enemy?

Looking along the track, the images of the dead, the dying and the wounded, would be engraved on his memory for ever. Bullets can kill an enemy. But they can also make an enemy. He could see that from the hostility on the faces of the people they were trying to protect.

He would ask himself the same question, over and over again. Who were responsible for these crimes? This was a war where the enemy could be anywhere and everywhere. It was an enemy that didn't wear any uniform and lived amongst the innocent and peaceful villagers. Surrender was never an option, as they fought for their right to protect their country, independence and beliefs.

For the allied troops on the ground, it was a question of fighting against an enemy they couldn't see, feel or touch. Nobody was trying to be a hero. They were just young men who were trained to kill and follow orders. Many had spent months in the boonies, seeing their buddies being picked off one-by-one by sporadic enemy fire.

After all, you couldn't fight against a sniper or a booby trap. As the frustration and hatred became real, you threw the rule book away. These solders had become a close-knit family. They valued the lives of everyone in their platoon. If that meant taking out the enemy to save a brother in arms, then so be it. It was their patriotic duty.

And then there was his part that he had played in all the carnage. Flying in the gunships at 600 feet, he was enveloped by his own feeling of cavalier detachment. As he pressed the button to release the napalm bombs on his unfortunate victims, he would watch as the canisters floated and fluttered to the ground. As he looked down at the eerie, picturesque landscape below him, they were as graceful and mesmerising as the sound of the operatic voices from Lakmé's Flower Song that filled his head.

Glistening silver and white in the sunlight, it wasn't until they hit the ground that their devastating effects would be revealed. As they exploded on impact, the flames would keep travelling along the ground, generating deadly concentrations of carbon monoxide and destroying everything in its path. Burning at temperatures of up 2,2000F, Murdock couldn't even imagine the pain it would cause if the flames came into contact with human skin.

One way or another they had all become victims in a conflict where men were fighting on the edge of insanity. As he travelled down his own road to hell, every wound would bleed just a little bit deeper. And now God was punishing him for what he did. Because nothing would ever erase those memories from him mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Arriving back with the carefully acquired hotdog, it hadn't taken Face long to realise something was seriously wrong with Murdock. He seemed to be trembling and fidgeting uncontrollably, whilst mumbling on about a Vietnamese girl waving a white flag. Worse than that, was the fact that he didn't even seem to recognise who Face was and was becoming more agitated and confused by the second.

Face had no choice but to take him back to the VA. Returning to the Vette he sat in the driver's seat, with his hands and head resting on the steering wheel. He hated leaving Murdock behind. If it wasn't for this damned assignment, he could have taken Murdock back with him for a few days.

The doctors and nurses had tried to reassure him that he had done the right thing by bringing him back. And he knew they were probably right. Face had a feeling that it was going to be a long night for Murdock. This would probably be the start of many flashbacks the pilot would have as his ravaged mind played tricks with him in the darkness of the night.

After several minutes, he finally shook his head sadly and picked up the car cell phone. He dialled the number slowly and waited until a familiar voice answered on the other end.

"Hello Hannibal," he said. "I'm afraid there's been a change of plan. Murdock won't be coming on the mission with us tomorrow."

 **Fini**

[ _Thank-you for reading. Reviews welcome and very much appreciated._ ]


End file.
